The Vacation
by Crittab
Summary: Daryl and Carol find themselves trapped in a cabin in the woods while a herd of walkers passes through. So why is Carol so damned happy about it? Rated M for Caryl lovin'.
1. Chapter 1

**The Vacation**

**NC17/M**

**Summary: **Daryl and Carol find themselves trapped in a cabin in the woods while a herd of walkers passes through. So why is Carol so damned happy about it? Rated M for Caryl lovin'.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own The Walking Dead.

* * *

It'd been about three days that Daryl and Carol had been holed up in a small cabin a few miles into the Georgia woods. Outside a herd of walkers clamoured for their flesh, every so often punching out one of the boards the previous tenant had nailed to the windows, only to have Daryl quickly re-secure the weak point.

Playing house, is what Carol had taken to calling it by day two. Daryl hadn't been in the mood for jokes at the time, frustrated, cabin fever beginning to overtake the threat of imminent death outside. The pair had been out hunting when the herd descended from the west. Daryl had made a snide comment that that's what happens when you take a woman out hunting – some urban myth about bad luck. Carol had promptly spotted the cabin and raised her eyebrow, as if challenging him to say another word.

Whoever the previous tenant had been, he had been two things for certain: a survivalist, judging based on the amount of canned food and bottled water located in the cellar, and dead. Very, very dead, if the rotten corpse with a gunshot wound to the head was any indication. The scene had been almost too much for even Daryl, between the stench of human rot and what had been leftover when the dead man vacated his bowels. It had taken both he and Carol a good hour and a half to scrub the place clean after throwing the body unceremoniously out the back door and bolting it shut with them inside.

The first night had been tense. Neither lit a fire in the wood stove for fear of attracting more unwanted attention, nor were they keen on making a getaway due to the sheer numbers they'd be facing. Given the readily available supplies, it seemed prudent to just settle in and wait out the herd. They had to move on eventually. They always did.

So they waited. Daryl hadn't slept during the first night, keeping watch as Carol tossed and turned on an old cot with a hole in the mattress. He'd more than once been convinced the walkers were going to get in, as nails creaked against half-rotten wood in a vain attempt to hold their position. A thousand little soldiers, fighting bravely against the onslaught. Most did alright, though he'd had to repair more than few holes on that first night.

The next morning he ate a can of corn, and slipped into the still-warm bed as soon as Carol was up and at 'em.

Few words were exchanged between the pair, much to Daryl's relief. It was bad enough being trapped inside a wooden box that would most likely become their tomb. It was better if they could reach that point without any awkward moments, he figured. Though if he had to be trapped, part of him was glad he was with someone he could stand for more than five minutes.

Daryl didn't sleep long on that first morning, just long enough to get a reboot on his drained resources. He'd never needed much sleep before the world had gone to shit. Nowadays, he was thankful for years of insomnia and nightmares. Sleep was the only thing more dangerous than being awake in this world.

He awoke to the aroma of something he hadn't smelled in months – not since Herschel's farm, in fact. The smell wafting through the cabin pulled him from his slumber insistently, instantly setting his taste buds alight and forcing his eyes to open. When he blinked the sleep out of his eyes, he peered over at the slim woman just as she poured two mugs full of the rich, dark liquid, still steaming from being boiled over a fire he didn't remember being lit.

"Morning sunshine," she said with a smile that was punctuated by a board being slammed out by a walker. Daryl was on his feet with his knife, a hammer and nails before the cold dead arms could do any more damage. A dead walker and firmly nailed board later, and he finally found his way over to the hearth where Carol had seated herself. There wasn't much space, just about enough for the two of them. Daryl couldn't be bothered to care about the proximity though, not when she handed him his first cup of coffee in nearly a year. He breathed in the scent and immediately began to salivate. He took a tentative sip, follow by a long gulp, luxuriating in the taste.

"Almost worth being cooped up in here," Carol noted, sipping her own brew. Daryl scoffed lightly at that, and took another sip before responding.

"Wouldn't go that far," he grumbled lightly, sleep still thick in his voice. Carol grinned lightly and went back to sipping her coffee. The pair shared an easy silence as they finished their liquid breakfasts– well, as silent as it could be with walkers trying to break down the door.

After a while, Carol spoke once more.

"How much longer do you think they'll keep at it?" she questioned. Daryl shrugged and grabbed his crossbow, heading for the one area where a gap in the planks of wood provided him a view out into the world.

"Till somethin' more interestin' comes along, I spose." He peered a little closer into the gap just in time for a walker to fly at the space, colliding with the still-intact window. "Could be a while." Carol frowned.

"The group's going to worry. They'll be out looking for us." Daryl shook his head and backed away from the window, heading back to sit on the floor at Carol's feet.

"Nah, Rick knows better," Daryl suggested. "'sides, none of 'em can track worth shit. Wouldn't find us if they tried."

"Listen to you, brimming with confidence," Carol teased lightly. She nudged him with her foot and smiled, prompting him to look up at her confusedly.

"You're in a damn good mood for bein' them walkers' next meal," he said gruffly. Carol snorted a small laugh.

"I know. I don't know why that is. I guess I'm just... not afraid," she eventually decided. Daryl eyed her curiously for a moment.

"You gone 'n picked a hell of a time to get brave, woman," he shot back. She giggled lightly at that, causing a bemused grin to find its way to Daryl's lips. She eventually settled into a smile that seemed almost _serene_ to Daryl. She placed a light hand on his shoulder and leaned in a little closer as if to tell him a secret. He watched her with rapt interest as she opened her mouth slightly, then closed it, then laughed to herself once again.

He'd never been more confused in his life – and he'd seen Inception.

* * *

As the day grew on and the sun began to set along the west side of the old cabin, Daryl found himself becoming more and more frustrated. If it wasn't enough that they were being hunted by a herd of at least fifty walkers, he was trapped in this place with some weird alternate version of Carol. This version smiled to herself, hummed as she cooked, and seemed entirely unfazed by the almost endless clawing and thumping at their rickety old box. Whatever she had smoked while he was asleep, he didn't know if he wanted her to share or keep it the hell away from him. Last thing he needed in a life or death circumstance was to be so damn... content. It unnerved him.

That night Carol slept peacefully with a smile on her face as Daryl alternated between watching her in befuddlement and keeping an eye on the doors and windows. The herd seemed to have thinned a little over the course of the day, which Daryl was more than a little thankful for. He figured if they could lose another half of the walkers by morning, they might stand a chance of fighting their way out of the cabin and back to the prison.

Daryl settled himself on the floor next to the bed, leaning against the wall with his crossbow in his lap and listening to Carol's steady breaths. He couldn't account for her mood, or the way it bothered him so much. He should be happy that she was okay with their circumstance. It was certainly better than being trapped with someone who was panicked. Panic made people do idiotic things, like try to make a run for it through a crowd full of walkers. He'd seen it happen before, and it never ended well.

But something was just so strange about Carol. She barely seemed like herself. Sure, she wasn't usually a downer, but she'd always maintained a sort of reserved calm about her, and rarely seemed to evoke emotions stronger than mild amusement. Maybe he'd gotten too used to the widow and childless mother, forgetting that somewhere inside Carol, perhaps buried deep down behind the battered woman, was a happiness and sense of self worth that not even a thousand beatings could kill.

He almost laughed out loud at that thought. He knew, probably better than anyone, that a thousand beatings could kill just about any kind of hope or happiness. No, he decided, it probably wasn't that at all.

Maybe she was just cracking up. Maybe he wasn't the only one getting cabin fever.

A loud bang on the door stole his attention, and he turned back to the more pressing matter at hand.

It was three hours later, barely dawn when Carol stirred behind him. Daryl peeked over the edge of the mattress and saw her blinking awake with that same oddly contented smile still gracing her features.

"Mornin' sunshine," he threw her words back at her. She smiled and buried her face into the blankets a little, eyeing him over the sheets.

"Morning," she greeted. Daryl and Carol watched each other for a long moment, blue eyes on blue, just sitting in the pocket of relative peace and quiet.

"Y'alright?" he questioned, almost without thinking. He hadn't planned on addressing her behaviour, but he could barely think of anything else. Having her weigh so heavily on his mind wasn't necessarily a new thing for Daryl, but he was usually able to worry about her from a distance. Being trapped here like this with her made it all sorts of impossible to keep his thoughts to himself.

She nodded and pushed herself up onto her elbow, resting her head in her hand as she peered down at him.

"I'm good," she said calmly. Daryl's brow furrowed.

"Why?" She took a long breath and let out slowly as she considered the question. Finally, after a moment, she met his gaze once more.

"It's like a vacation," she eventually decided. Daryl eyed her like she might be losing her mind, and she laughed lightly. "It is! Get out of that prison, get some fresh air... what's not to like?"

"Sure," Daryl humoured her. "Fresh air, good food, hungry walkers... what's not to like?" She laughed at his joke and shook her head.

"The walkers will leave soon enough," she said confidently. "Besides, you get to go out all the time. I'm always stuck back at the prison looking after other people's kids and making meals to feed the whole of Woodbury," she said, a small frown gracing her features. Daryl nodded a little. He hadn't thought about what life was like for Carol at the prison – what tasks she was most often stuck with. He decided then that he preferred her odd contentment to the shadow of disappointment he'd gotten used to.

"You should stop," he suggested. Her brow furrowed.

"Stop what?"

"Stop tendin' to the kids. Stop cookin' the food," he clarified. "You can fight, hunt." She chuckled dryly at that.

"You think it's that easy, huh?" she questioned. He shrugged.

"Why not?" She sighed and shook her head.

"No, I do that and it all gets shoved on Beth. She's just a kid. She doesn't deserve that." Daryl scoffed.

"Rick could watch his own kids," he said gruffly. Carol laughed lightly at that.

"What a novel idea!" she exclaimed, making Daryl grin lightly. "Honestly though, it isn't so bad. I just needed a break, I guess."

"Well you got one. Luxury hotel 'n everythin'," he said, gesturing to the small space around them. Carol laughed heartily at the joke.

"Feels like it!" she exclaimed, before setting a slightly mischievous gaze on him. "Not only that, I get to be here with the only member of the group I don't get eventually get sick of." Daryl laughed a little louder at that than he intended, only to be reminded of their circumstance by a loud bang on one of the windows. He sobered a little, but eyed her amusedly.

"You just ain't had time to get sick 'a me yet," he joked. She giggled a little and pushed herself up into a seated position and swung her legs over the edge of the bed.

"Don't hold your breath."

* * *

_One more chapter to go. Hope you're liking it. Let me know!_


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead**

* * *

The third day of walker-induced relaxation went by slowly, with the thick summer air in the cabin even grating on Carol's nerves after a while. As for Daryl, he didn't think he'd ever needed to go outside so bad. The herd had thinned a bit more over the course of the day, but the walkers outside still seemed to number in the twenties, and those were just the ones he could see through the peephole. If he was a betting man, he wouldn't give the two of them very good odds against a herd that size.

If there was any light in the whole situation, it was that the herd did seem to be slowly trickling away as the scent of passing wildlife reached their noses. Daryl thanked goodness for small favours every time he saw one distractedly wandering off into the distance.

After their conversation that morning, Daryl was much less concerned by Carol's behaviour. Sure, he still thought she was batshit crazy for acting like this was some kind of vacation from the relative safety of the prison, but he supposed he could understand her point. The folks back at the prison did often treat her like a glorified housewife, cooking, cleaning up after them and watching the children. Granted, most of the Woodbury kids didn't have parents left to watch after them, but it still didn't seem fair that those responsibilities unquestioningly wound up in Carol and Beth's hands. Daryl made a mental note to talk to Rick about the division of labour if – when– they made it back to the prison.

"You think we should make a run for it tomorrow?" Carol asked sometime after the sun had set on the third day. The pair had been watching the diminishing numbers closely all afternoon.

"Either that or settle in for a while longer," Daryl said, peeking out the peephole once more before joining her at the fire. She had laid out a blanket to serve as a make-shift picnic area, and had set out bowls of canned vegetables and Spam for them to eat for dinner. Daryl wasn't one to complain about a meal, but after three days on Spam, he was about ready to curse the former tenant for his god-awful taste in canned meats.

Daryl propped his crossbow against the wall and slid down onto the blanket, the food in between him and Carol. She picked at some beans slowly while Daryl grabbed some peas.

"I think we should take our chances," she said assuredly. Daryl raised an eyebrow.

"I thought you'd be all for for extendin' your _vacation_," he teased lightly.

"All vacations have to end sometime," she said simply.

"So what's the plan then?" he asked. "Go out in a blaze of glory?" She huffed a small laugh at that.

"I was thinking of something a little more elegant."

"If the numbers keep goin' down tonight we'll make a run for it in the mornin'," he allowed.

"You should sleep tonight, in that case,"she suggested.

"Someone's gotta keep watch."

"Daryl, you've secured and re-secured any weak points. If they were going to get in, they'd be in by now."

"Still. Don't wanna get caught with our pants down," he returned. She offered a sly grin at that.

"You planning on us taking our pants off tonight?" Daryl's eyes widened at the implication.

"Ain't what I meant," he backtracked.

"Hey, I'm not saying it's a bad idea," she pressed, amusement etched on her features. Daryl rolled his eyes.

"Good Lord, woman."

"What? Fire, warm bed, privacy... not going to get a better chance than this."

"You're trouble," he said, pointing his fork at her to emphasize his point, making her laugh.

"You have no idea." She laughed once more as Daryl's expression went slack. "And you're too easy to get a rise out of," she teased. He pulled himself together and used what little self control he had to glare at her.

"Easy woman. One of these days I'm gonna think you're serious," he shot back, pleased when her grin morphed into an expression of surprise. He wasn't sure what it was about the whole scenario that made him feel loose enough to engage with her flirting, but he couldn't deny the small sense of pride he felt for making her blush. He took a self-congratulatory bite of his dinner, only to choke on it at her next statement.

"Who says I'm not?" she asked, her eyes trained squarely on him. He coughed the lodged pea out of his throat as best he could.

"What?" was all he could squeak out. He mentally berated himself for sounding like a fourteen year old boy.

"I'm just saying," she began, all humour suddenly gone, "if it's going to happen – if you _want_ it to happen – now's the time." Daryl watched her with a mix of shock and awe as she continued. "After tonight we're either dead or back at the prison, where privacy is hardly something we can count on. Wouldn't you rather just do it here?" Her self-assuredness threw him for a loop. As someone who had never been certain about anything when it came to the opposite sex, he could hardly believe how brazen she was being.

"You're serious?" he questioned, clarifying. She set her bowl down and clasped her hands in her lap, showing, for the first time, a hint of nervousness.

"Look... if you're not interested just say so and we'll pretend I'm joking around," she offered. He eyed her tentatively for a moment.

"And if I am?" he forced the words out. She offered a small smile at that.

"Then maybe I'm serious." Daryl blinked at her for a long moment, feeling a pull in his gut that he'd rarely experienced since the world that gone to shit. He could see her nervousness showing, and the rational voice in his head was telling him to _say something_,_ do anything_ to alleviate the tension.

So he said the first thing that came to mind.

"C'mere woman," he ground out, his voice thick. Before he had a moment to re-evaluate his stance on the matter, Carol was across the picnic blanket, pushing him onto his back and straddling his hips.

The first kiss Daryl barely participated in at all, a frenzy of motion stealing his attention as he attempted to catch up with her. When he did catch up, it was all he could do to keep from mauling the woman.

"You sure about this?" She asked somewhere between heated kisses. He hadn't bothered to respond, instead moving his lips to her neck and tasting the skin he'd admittedly wanted to taste for some time.

Daryl wasn't the most experienced when he came to sex. He'd had a few trysts over the years, nothing serious or worth mentioning, and nothing recently. Since Merle was last out of prison five years earlier, the brothers had spent most of their time together. Daryl didn't make much time for anything else.

But being here on the splintered floor of an old rickety cabin, tangled and heated with Carol, he could feel all of those long lost memories coming back to him; the way it felt to be deep inside a woman, the way he was always left unsatisfied when they left before morning.

Carol wouldn't leave before morning – and he knew it wasn't just because of their circumstance. Almost more than the inevitable sex, he was excited for the next part. _Being _together. _Sleeping_ together. _Holding _her in his arms. He moaned into her neck at the thought and pulled her tighter against him. Daryl wasn't a needy man by any means, but he needed Carol. He wasn't fool enough to pretend he didn't.

Somewhere between the kisses and searching hands, the pair pushed up off the hard floor and fumbled their way to the bed, clothes disappearing as they went. Daryl noticed her eyes on his scars, which normally made him want to hide, but for some reason he felt safe in her sights. She didn't judge him, or pity him. She related to him. She _was_ him, in so many ways.

As they sunk into the uncomfortable mattress, Daryl slipped easily between her thighs, letting her guide him home as they finally came together after what felt to him like a year-long game of cat and mouse. He needed to feel all of her, and when he finally did, he knew there was no way this could possibly last long enough – not just this moment of intimacy, but this moment of privacy, this _vacation_ from the group and all of the realities associated with life in the prison. Part of him just wanted to stay here in this cabin with Carol and never go back.

Daryl dropped his head into her neck as he set up a slow pace. He didn't want to rush this moment, it felt too important. But he also knew he didn't have a lot of time left in him, so he wanted to make it last as long as possible for her. For them. Being together like this was something he'd wanted for far too long, but had never really expected to be able to do. He had to make it last.

He sighed into her throat as she wrapped her legs more tightly around his waist and tangled one hand in the hair at the back of his head.

"Daryl," she whispered. He pushed up enough that he could see her, stilling deep inside of her. She smiled and he couldn't help but return it, dipping down to kiss her lightly before resuming his movement.

It didn't take long, and it wasn't perfect, but Daryl managed to hang on until he felt the woman coming apart in his arms. When they finished, he fell to the side and pulled her tightly against him, tangling their bodies together as they let sleep find them for the last time in the cabin.

* * *

Daryl peeked out the peephole and felt an odd sense of dissatisfaction at the sight of the few walkers that were left over. Since he'd last checked, they'd lost at least half of their remaining following, leaving an even ten walkers that he could make out, few enough that he and Carol should have no trouble dispatching them.

"What are our chances?" Carol asked from the bed. He turned to see her sitting up, sheets pulled up to her chest, bare shoulders peeking out. He sighed lightly.

"We'll be fine. Just gotta be smart about it," he allowed. He was standing across the room shirtless, his pants on, but unbuttoned. She nodded her understanding, a small frown on her lips.

"Don't suppose the offer to extend our vacation still stands," she joked lightly. He chuckled a little at that and crossed over, settling himself on the edge of the bed, leaning in close to her and snagging the briefest of kisses.

"I dunno," he muttered. "Could stay here awhile. Give 'em a chance to miss us." She giggled lightly at that and leaned in to kiss him a little longer. The ease of their morning after wasn't lost on him. He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, but he was relieved that they seemed to be on the same page.

After a few moments, Carol pulled away and sighed.

"We should get a move on," she suggested. He nodded slowly and she watched him, nervousness etched on her features. "Daryl?" she questioned.

"Yeah?"

"When we get back..." she let her sentence drift off, and Daryl knew what she was asking.

"I'm in if you are," he offered. She smiled genuinely then, and nodded her ascent.

"I'm in," she confirmed. He nodded, feeling a strange contentment forming in his belly. He wondered if this was the feeling she had had all along.

* * *

Hours and a dozen dead walkers later, the pair finally emerged from the thick wilderness at the gates of prison. A relieved looking Rick was there to meet them, pulling the gates open for them.

"We thought you were dead," he said bluntly. Daryl passed his pack full of canned vegetables, Spam and instant coffee over to the man.

"Nah, man. Just went shoppin'," he joked. Rick looked down at the contents of the bag and then up at them curiously. He looked like he might have more to say, but Daryl and Carol didn't bother waiting around. Days away had been enough for them to miss the prison and all of the crazy people within, and they were eager to get back inside and see their adopted family once again.

Daryl grabbed Carol's hand as they made their way toward the cell block. Vacations were always nice while they lasted, but nothing ever felt quite as good as coming home.

**End**

* * *

_Hope you liked it. Let me know!_


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